


You do You

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Series: Snapshots of Two Lives Entwined [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Greg is the best, Hurt!Sherlock, M/M, Myroft always knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: "‘You Do You’ means taking care of yourself--and generally just being yourself--in the face of ever-mounting obligations to and expectations of others." ―Oliver Bonas





	You do You

**Author's Note:**

> This one turned out to be more angsty than the rest of the milder fluffier stories in this series!

Although Sherlock hadn’t quite fully moved in with Greg yet, (or maybe Greg hadn’t yet fully moved in with Sherlock…..they hadn’t gotten around to figuring out which way to go) he did spend most of his time at Greg’s flat, especially during cases.

So when he didn’t turn up for three consecutive days, Greg was a bit worried.

They had all been frustrated and exhausted by the latest case and he knew that although Sherlock had dismissed it as a 4 the first day, its complexity had reeled him in slowly and it was now nothing less than a 9.

He also knew that, as always, Sherlock was taking it personally and getting angry and frustrated with himself for every extra hour that passed without solving the case.

Greg texted him a couple of times that day but received no response.

He checked with Molly but she said Sherlock hadn’t been to Bart’s in a while. So he called John and found out that Sherlock wasn’t at 221 B either. That is when he truly started to worry. A bit.

He would not put it past the genius to take off on his own on some lead for the case and put himself in danger. _Idiot_.

He checked the mobile tracking app but found that Sherlock’s phone seemed to have been switched off. He stared at his own phone for a second with a slightly increasing panic. Left with no choice he started to text Mycroft but was too impatient to even think of waiting for a reply, so he just dialled his number right away. It was answered on the second ring.

‘What can I do for you Inspector?’ said the smooth voice.

‘It’s Sherlock,’ said Greg quickly, not wasting any time. ‘We have been working on a difficult case. He hasn’t been here in three days and John says he isn’t at Baker Street. Molly hasn’t seen him either.’

The smooth voice acquired just the slightest edge as both of them considered the unsaid option of exactly where he might be. ‘Let me check and get back to you.’

.

.

Forty minutes later Greg, John and Mycroft found each other at the mouth of an alley in the seamier part of London. Mycroft wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell, John checked for something tucked into his back (a gesture which was pointedly ignored by both the Yard and the British Government) and Greg clenched his fists at the thought of what they were likely to find.

What they found was Sherlock slumped against the bar in a run down pub, probably coming down from a high, having obviously gotten into a fight a couple of days ago, with a purple bruise ripening on his face.

However, seeing as he wasn’t in any immediate danger, John and Mycroft stayed near the door while Greg went in. The barman saw him make a beeline towards Sherlock and came out from behind the counter.

‘Hey you lay off him mate, he isn’t in his senses. And he’s already been in a fight.’

Greg was tempted to pull out his badge to show him but the man seemed to have realized just then that he was probably a cop and was slowly backing off anyway, half raised hands in front of him.

‘Am I in trouble? Is he in any trouble?’ asked the bartender. Then he continued hesitantly. “He is a good man you know. He helped me before…..’

‘It’s fine.’ Greg said firmly. ‘Don’t worry. He isn’t in any trouble. Neither are you. He is with me. Thanks.’

He manged to get Sherlock to sit upright and patted his face to wake him up. John came by with a glass of water. When they managed to get him to wake up and focus he took one look at Greg and started to try to leave.

Greg held him with both hands around his wrists in a vice like grip.

‘Sherlock!’ he said. ‘Stop! What is going on??!’

“I can’t Greg I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t!! I can’t…….,’ He was chanting. He closed his eyes. “The patterns aren’t falling into place. I can’t solve it!!

‘It’s ok sunshine, it’s ok!’ Greg said, holding his hands in his own, suddenly distressed that he hadn’t seen this coming. “Why didn’t you come home?!”

“And I needed to get some……some …………just the 7%.......nothing more …….. but I really wanted it ……to sharpen my mind. But I promised you ………..and I couldn’t ………..I am a failure. I don’t deserve you. I can’t solve it …….and if I don’t have my deductions then what do I have? …..” He seemed to be near tears.

Greg was shocked. He knew The Work meant everything to Sherlock. Hell, it meant everything to him too but he knew he had an identity beyond work while the younger man didn’t seem to think so. He felt deeply sad that he hadn't seen this coming and that Sherlock hadn't felt he could trust him to understand and had, well, had run away instead.

Just then Sherlock opened his eyes and dilated blue irises looked into Greg’s sad brown ones and he spoke in a whisper, “And you will hate me now for using and if I don’t have your love I don’t have anything at all…..”

John flushed, suddenly realized that he was intruding on an intensely private moment. He turned and walked back quietly to stand near Mycroft, who was watching this entire episode apparently impassively, his stress revealed only by the white knuckled grip on his umbrella handle.

Greg's heart was breaking. He moved closer to Sherlock and held his face in his hands. He took a deep breath. ‘Sherlock, love, listen to me. You don’t need to be the genius all the time. Not with me. Even you can’t solve every single case. And if you do slip up once in a while it doesn’t make you a failure. I could never hate you, never! Here…’ he said waving his hand in the space between the two of them, ‘Here there is no judgement. No pretence. No drama. Only love. Here you can just be you and I will just be me and we can just be us. Together. Ok?’

He kissed him on the forehead, blinking away some angry unshed tears. He hated everyone who had ever made this beautiful captivating being feel as though he owed them his performance and his genius and his obedience in order to earn their love.

He tried not to think about it right now but sometimes it did include the two men standing by the doorway also.

Sherlock held on to him, trembling with relief. He rested his head against his lover’s shoulder. They stood like that for a few minutes.

Eventually he spoke up softly. ‘I wish I had met you when I was younger Greg.’

‘I wish so too love…… but you have me now. I wish you could see what I see.’ Greg looked at him tenderly, running one finger gently down his cheek. “You are magnificent Sherlock, larger than life. You have more brilliance than anyone else but you also have more passion than anyone else. You hide it so well most of the time but you don’t have to you know. Not anymore. Not with me. _Never_ with me. You just do you. And that is more than enough. Look at how worried John is and so is Mycroft. Molly is waiting at Bart’s for me to text her and let her know you are fine. We all love you for exactly who you  are, not what you do. ” Greg’s voice hitched. “ You are no more perfect than any of us but you are infinitely more precious to me than anything else in this world sweetheart. Don’t you _ever_ forget that.”

He pulled him up and held him close. “Come. Let’s go home and get you cleaned up and then you can sleep and tomorrow we will wake up and solve this case. Ok?”

.

.

When the wildflower creeper bursts out in full bloom and the world stares in admiration, it is the rare few who will notice the broad trunk of the oak tree around which the vine is wrapped. Without which it will not survive-- let alone flower in its entire glory.

But the vine knows what is holding it up and the tree knows how much more beautiful its life is now with the vine wrapped around it.

So they hold each other in that deceptively fragile embrace.

‘You do you’ they murmur to each other as the breeze moves through their in- between spaces and the noise of the world gets muffled and recedes further and further away.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
